


Somerset

by SketchLockwood



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

London

1463

Cecily Neville lifted her head. There was a knock on her door. “Enter.” She said wearily. It was dark outside still, she had not over slept.

One of her maids entered. The poor girl had dark circles around her eyes, that was clear even from the single candle she held.

“Mary, whatever is it child?”

“Madam, I am sorry to wake you. I wouldn’t, ordinarily I’d say you were sleeping but-“

“But what Mary?”

“You have a visitor.”

“What on earth? What time is it? I won’t be seeing anyone at this fine now leave me.”

“Madam please-“

“No. Good night Mary.”

The light went away and the door closed. She heard voices in the neighbouring room. A man’s voice.

A voice she recognised even without hearing it clearly.

The door unsurprisingly then opened. She did not open her eyes. “Edward, you better have a good reason for waking me.”

“Mama.” He sounded like a child. Sounded like he had when he was little older than 8 and being left in Ludlow. Like he had when he begged her and Richard not to leave.

“Edward?” She sat up. Had not heard him approach the bed, he sat, dressed only in his bed clothes, his feet bare. Beside him was a candle. “Pass that candle to me.” He did, she lit several more as she left the warmth of her bed. She saw the tears that had streamed down his face.

“What makes you cry? Hmm? You never cry. I don’t think I’ve seen it since you were a tiny thing.”

“I’ve not cried.” He lied. She could always see through his lies, the way he bit the inside of his lip almost imperceptibly.

“No.” She smiled. Sitting on the bed. “Your hair is tangled.” She spoke gently.

She saw his mouth flick into a small smile.

“I need your advice.”

“On?”

“What do you so when someone you cared for dies? I cannot shake it.”

“You are mourning?”

He nodded. “Suppose I am.”

“Edmund? Your father? They would not expect this-“

“No.” He frowned.

“Then who? What?”

“Mama I need to tell you something.”

“Edward you can tell me anything, you know this.”

Not this. His face said it all.

“I slept with Harry.”

“Edward? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I lived a life of sin for the past year, or so.”

“Edward I don’t understand.”

“How do I have to explain it?” He snapped. “I played my hand at sodomy?”

“Enough.” She snapped. “That I understood. I will deal with that matter soon. Harry? Henry of Somerset? Your sworn enemy? The man involved in your father’s death? The man involved in the degradation of your father, brother and uncle? The Anjou bitch’s right hand man?” Edward said nothing. “Jesu but you’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious.”

“John, he nearly died for you. Against him.” She said the last word with disgust. “Your brother in law, he nearly died, because that swine betrayed you. I always said you should never have forgiven him. Much less let him corrupt you.”

“Corrupt me?”

“I am certain you would not let him...” she shook her head. “I cannot say it. He wouldn’t have been able to do what he did without first corrupting your mind. He wanted to weaken you.”

“Mother.”

“No. He would succeed, if I said a word. Which I shall not. Not to a soul. I advise you do the same. Never speak a word of this.” She stroked his cheek. “And you are not to mourn him. He almost destroyed everything you have, everything your sister holds most dear. John may never walk again, he may never move his arm again. Hobbes said so. You cannot mourn a Lancastrian who betrayed you at that price Edward. I certainly won’t see you cry for him. Now leave me.”

“But mama-“

“Leave. I shall see you at dawn.”


	2. Chapter 2

December 1480

The Palace of Westminster 

Margaret hurried through the halls of Westminster palace. She walked in such a way that even William Hastings jumped aside to let her pass. Thomas Grey, the usually wise mouthed twerp (so she heard) had nothing to say but a small grunt of disapproval as he had to move for her. 

She had been summoned by Princess Elizabeth and the Queen. She knew why. Edward had lost control of his senses. He had drunk himself into a stupid and why? Their mother had arrived at court yesterday and she had held less than civil words with her son the King. The whole three words she said before she once again returned to ignoring his very existence. 

“Move aside, John.” She muttered to John Howard, who stood guard at the doors to make sure none who did not need to saw the king whatever state he would be in. Howard was about to say something, she suspected an objection yet he thought better of it. Opened the door for her. 

She marched into the chamber, the smell of vomit hitting her hard. She almost gipped, caught herself. “Ladies, leave us,” she said as she looked at her brother laying on the floor, eyes very much alert. His doublet strewn over his bed, his shirt on a settle. He was shirtless, despite the bitter cold of the night. 

She saw Elizabeth Woodville, the witch Edward had married, about to object when Bess took her hand. 

“Mother, come. She will be alright. So will papa.” 

Margaret waited until the door had closed behind them. “What is it?” She said, matter of fact.

“I’ve done so terrible things.” He slurred. He did not struggle to sit as she expected he might. He just lay there, not a complaint beyond those words. 

“George?”

“No, others.” 

“We’ve all done terrible things, Edward.”

“No, I have sinned against all things natural Margaret and  you do not understand a bit of that.” 

“Edward. I won’t pretend I understand how you feel about George, and I do not care. You have made that bed-“

“I could not care less about George.” He now struggled to sit up, managed. “George deserved what he got.” 

She felt sick. She did not know what kept her in that room. Hope he may somehow redeem himself? Hope he had gone mad?

“I was so much younger, and I have damned myself to an eternity in hell. So what is it to kill your own brother then? Meg?” 

“You can ask for forgiveness for many things Edward, you can ask for the lifting of a guilt I can’t imagine you don’t feel. For so many things. But you cannot gain redemption from an attitude like that you have now, Edward.” 

He laughed, a cold laugh. “I don’t deserve redemption.” 

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t. But I beg you to ask for it.”

He snickered. “Why would God forgive me now?”

“Edward.”

“You remember him?”

“Who?”

“Beaufort.”

“Somerset? What on earth? You feel guilt at his death but not your own brothers?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not guilt, disgust.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t take this. 

George, her dearest brother? And Edward felt nothing, yet a true traitors death disgusted-

“It was fun whilst it lasted. You know?”

“What?” She sounded disillusioned, she knew. 

“Henry and I. We.” He gulped. “We shared a bed.”

“Many men do-“

“No. Meg. Not like we did.”

Her jaw dropped a little, she gulped down whatever it was that rose in her. “Oh.” She whispered. 

“Not once, not even twice-“

“I do not need details, Edward. Jesus, but what on earth...”

“Possessed me? If only I could say I was possessed by something more than lust.” 

“Does anyone else know?”

“No.” He scoffed. “Christ no. Will would have killed him, readily, anyway. Understand I did not want him dead then.”

“And you did when he died?”

“No. I have never wanted anything less in my life. That’s what hurts, Meg.”

“So.” She nearly choked. “I can’t do this, Edward. I won’t say a word. If only because it would disgrace us all. We then discuss tomorrow the ways in which you can help Burgundy. Then I leave, and I won’t come back.”

“Meg.” 

“Just, don’t.” 

She turned on her heels, left the room without another word. She did not care as she heard the pitcher launch across the room as the door closed behind her. 

Let him tantrum, she thought. 

She was done. 


End file.
